Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1887-06-30

DOC was not an unappreclatlve boy.
He sang those queer, old-fashioned
songs for us-songs which he had heard
his mother sing. [ have sat and lis
tened to his Barbara Allen" as the
echoes ran riot among the caves and
ljungles, till the big owl returned the
challenge with hooking fit of insane
laughter.
The old song comes back to me with
the quaint rhythm as l write:
| He sent his servant to the town,
| Where Barb'ry was a dwellin'.
| Sayin you must go to me own master
Eft your name be Barb'ry Allen.
Then there was another stanza that
was very affecting indeed:
And as she walked adown the street
| The bells they were a-tollin
| And every toll they seemed to say,
| Handkerchief Barb'ry Allen.
/ know the old song would not attune
well to parlor organ, and / doubt if
you could play it on grand piano.
But there was a pathos of the thin Q
that stirred my youthful soul to its
depths.
Blue-eyed spring began to grow
plump, and finally developed into the
maturer charms of summer. Summer,
with the drone of the bumble-bee at
noon, and lazy Lawrence dancing on
the worm fences Summer time, sweet
summer time! The peaches ripened
and Redeemed, and the corn silks be-
gan to appear. Doc said if the first
| silk you saw was red one you would
be healthy and lucky the balance of
| the year. The first one he saw that
summer was a red one,
And, O, the signs and sayings he
taught US. He told us that if we saw
the new moon in a clear sky it was
lucky. He told us if we killed a toad
our best cow would die. He told us
that the knots in Old Beauty's name
when we went to feed her in the morn
ing-Old Beauty was our horse-were
caused by the witches who rode her
the night before, and used these knots
for stirrnps. Then he said when old
Dominicker, my favorite hen, took
spell of growing that
''Whis'lin' women an crokin' hens
is apt to come to some bad end"
Sure enough, blue darter hawk
killed old Dominicker the very next
Sunday.
Doc began to be stout and strong
now. He looked on the faded Jacket
and little breeches he wore when he
first came to our house in a sort of
reminiscently plying way, for his
arms had grown more muscular, and
his short legs had grown stouter, and
Doe began to be a right good-looking
boy, after all.
Autumn came with her sad eyes and
sobbing winds. Autumn had deeper
significance than ever before, for there
were portentous tidings waited from
afar on every breeze that wandered
through the heavens. A big white
comet blazed in the sky, and Doc said
that meant war; Doc was respecta-
ble-looking lad, indeed, now. He was
Is years old, but few would have be-
lieved it. His eyes still had that far
away expression in them. He was
older than his years.
That was winter long to be re-
membered. Gray uniforms were seen
at the last yearly meeting, neld in No
vember, and the preachers at that
meeting spoke words that sounded
harshly in our untutored ears. Young
women hummed warlike airs, and were
eager to catch the latest refrain.
/ remember how the crimson deep
ened on Cousin Sues brown cheek
when she ratified off:
Huzza! Huzza for the bonnie blue flag so
dear,
Huzza! for the sword and plume that South
ern soldiers wear!
At the first frolic the fiddler wore a
red feather in his hat and played
"Dixie."
Men talked and women sang, and
the warm blood ran riot in the South
ern veins. 'sOn to war" 80. Johnnie,
aire you boun' to be a soldier?"
Your waist, it is too slender,
Your hands, they are too small,
And your cheeks too red and rosy,
To face cannon ball
And sing O-and sing 0,
Sure you will, my dear
One wintry night the northern sky
burst into a deep crimson, and we
knew that the supernatural flame of
aurora borealis was burning on the
brow of heaven. Doe said that was
the sign of war. Everything was the
sign of war We had noticed the omi-
nous ssW" on the back of the locusts in
the early autumn. Captain Jack
Rainey had muster every week, and
the tramp, tramp, tramp of gathering
squadrons shattered the slumberous
| depths of the barrens,
| | knew that Doe had met Lucy Pax
| ton at the frolic, and | knew that he
| had followed her every movement with
fascinated gaze. She was not grown
up, but she was ''most grown" they
all said. She was Ii and the young
| men chose her for partner when they
| played .sall around the merry pole, :"
and Doc sat and watched her.
These were stirring times. Men and
| women shattered the letters of con-
ventionality and grew from boys to
men and from girls to women with
marvellous rapidity.
At candy-pulling Doe pulled candy
with her. The way of it was that they
all played lonesome, and they needed
one more to be the lonesome one,
and he was induced, much against his
will, to join. His success emboldened
him. and so the boy and the girl pulled
candy, and both were so painfully
conscious of their own youthfulness
that they pulled in silence.